About New York; Abbie Hoffman Does Stand-Up For His Beliefs

By DOUGLAS MARTIN

Published: August 31, 1988

The comic was hitting his groove. ''Let me tell you about the night Jerry Falwell and I slept together,'' Abbie Hoffman announced, leering lewdly at an adoring audience. ''Jimmy Swaggart took movies.'' The clown prince of 60's radicals, who 20 years ago helped nominate a pig for President, was appearing at Stand-Up New York, an Upper West Side comedy club. Telling jokes professionally is a new (and tentative) twist for a man whose life - through 51 years, 53 arrests and seven years on the lam - has been a crusade for causes. From the Vietnam War to fighting drug testing, Abbie Hoffman has manned the barricades.

He insists that it all fits together. ''A sense of humor is actually what gets you through,'' Mr. Hoffman said in a rare instant of solemnity. That was seconds before he pointed wildly to the heavens and shrieked: ''Beam me up, Scotty! Whoo!''

The grey in Mr. Hoffman's beard and hair are evidence that time has not stood still since he stood trial for conspiracy to disrupt the 1968 Democratic convention in Chicago - a legal muddle that succeeded in convicting none of the original eight defendants. But it is impossible to escape the impression that for many people the 60's are forever, despite the apt observation by the actor Robin Williams that those who can remember them probably weren't there.

This week's cover article in Newsweek is titled: ''Will we ever get over the 60's?'' Tens of thousands marched on Washington on Saturday in a recreation of the historic civil rights march of a quarter-century ago. And plans are sputtering along to stage another Woodstock rock festival next year -perhaps over the dead bodies of furious local residents who darkly recall the original spectacle in 1969.

Nothing, though, has brought the stormy, magical 60's more to the forefront than the nomination of Senator Dan Quayle as the Republican Vice Presidential candidate. Mr. Hoffman took particular delight in Vice President Bush's defense of Mr. Quayle - who reportedly used family connections to win entrance to the National Guard, vastly lowering his chances of combat - as someone who at least had not burned his draft card or the flag. ''All Bush was saying was that Quayle wasn't me,'' Mr. Hoffman chortled. ''Gee.''

Mr. Hoffman predicted that President Reagan would soon award Mr. Quayle the Medal of Honor in recognition of his contribution to the defense of Indiana. ''It could have been the last domino,'' he explained. But Democrats also took their lumps. Senator Bentsen? ''Central casting found someone who looks, walks and talks like Reagan.'' Governor Cuomo? ''I tend to agree with Woody Allen that politicians are a cut above child molesters.''

Religion did not escape mention, with Mr. Hoffman passing on his discovery that God is elderly, white, male and a Republican. He wondered why the Virgin Mary is forever miraculously appearing in places like Lubbock, Tex., rather than Greenwich Village. And he confirmed that he had considered becoming born-again, but his mother refused.

Throughout, he shed layer after layer of clothing. First went a sweater inspired by the American flag, recalling a similar T-shirt that once got Mr. Hoffman 30 days in jail. Then came the ''Just Say No'' T-shirt. He finished in long underwear with a picture of Karl Marx on the seat.

The show, performed on Monday and Tuesday evenings, was like time travel as Mr. Hoffman darted from long-ago memories to concerns about the cost of winning elections to seeming endorsements of drugs. He is still no Mort Sahl or Lenny Bruce, but those in attendance acted like old friends, applauding perhaps a bit too lovingly.

Somebody asked about Pigasus, the pig nominated for President. ''Times got hard,'' he said. ''We ate the pig.'' He was asked whether now is the time to buy or sell gold. ''Steal it,'' he said. (On sale were copies of his tome, ''Steal this Book,'' at $8.) Mr. Hoffman said he lives in a Pennsylvania town and has three children - ''not a yuppie in the litter.'' He bragged that his youngest, a boy named America, was recently kicked out of class during a discussion of the American melting pot. America had piped up: ''The Indians must have gotten boiled alive.''

So Mr. Hoffman keeps on keeping on, not despairing that today's college students ask him about the drug ''LDS'' and the black leader ''Malcolm Ten.'' There are still the good fights. And laughter, as always, helps. ''History moves in cycles and contradictions,'' Mr. Hoffman observed. ''I guarantee you there's light at the end of the tunnel.''